


Dead and Dazzling

by mia6363



Series: Knock ‘Em Dead [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Epic Friendship, Exes that are actually friends after, F/M, Friendship, Ghosts, He's not a friendly ghost but he's not totally UNFRIENDLY, Mildly Dubious Consent, Ouija, Poltergeists, Prayer Circle, Summoning, light grey morality, off screen break-up (Scott and Kira), scary imagery, two lost souls coming together to make a right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 15:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21460465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: Isaac slid the Ouiji board onto the glass, his lip bitten between his teeth.“Are yousurethis is a good idea?”“Oh, definitely not.” Stiles laughed, loud and bubbly the way he would when he’d had a few beers. “But it’stradition.Boyd would have remained an undeclared major if the spirit of Napoleon hadn’t pushed him toward,” Stiles snapped his fingers, “aw shit, what did Napoleon tell you to do, Boyd?”“Civil Engineering.” Boyd leveled Stiles with an unimpressed look. “Iknowyou were moving it, Stiles.”“Semantics!”
Relationships: (past) Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Bobby Finstock/Kira Yukimura
Series: Knock ‘Em Dead [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547020
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55
Collections: Finstock's Fucked Up Long Weekend 2019





	Dead and Dazzling

Beer-flavored giggles wove through the carpeted Stilinski basement. Kira took the summer shandy that Scott opened for her, her elbows bumping with Allison’s as they dropped to their knees. Lydia lit candles and Stiles lowered their _Lived to Graduation_ playlist so that it no longer made the walls shake. Erica and Boyd cleared the coffee table. Isaac slid the Ouiji board onto the glass, his lip bitten between his teeth.

“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?”

“Oh, definitely not.” Stiles laughed, loud and bubbly the way he would when he’d had a few beers. “But it’s _tradition._ Boyd would have remained an undeclared major if the spirit of Napoleon hadn’t pushed him toward,” Stiles snapped his fingers, “aw shit, what did Napoleon tell you to do, Boyd?”

“Civil Engineering.” Boyd leveled Stiles with an unimpressed look. “I _know_ you were moving it, Stiles.”

“Semantics!”

Kira laughed, giddy enough to not mind Scott’s arm around her, how that weight had soured into an uncomfortable burden. Every hug was more of a squeeze, every kiss a boyish, desperate claim of _look she’s mine._ Lately, whenever they were together Kira felt like someone was playing two _very_ different songs that didn’t work together. She often left with a pounding headache.

Erica stretched her legs into Kira’s lap, Allison hugged her, and Kira rolled her shoulders as Lydia lined up the planchette at the center. Kira took a deep breath.

“What kind of candles are these?”

Allison smiled.

“Eucalyptus. Dad said I could have them.”

Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh good, the spirits will be in the ultimate zen. I hope they sign off with _namaste.”_

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Are we ready to begin?” Stiles quieted down and nodded. Lydia tossed her hair over a shoulder, a silent _well, come on, let’s get on with it._ They all reached their hands to the center, resting their fingers on the planchette. Lydia cleared her throat. “This session will be a positive one, we only welcome positive spirits to communicate with us.”

“Only cool ghosts are allowed,” Scott snickered.

Lydia took a breath and the loud clock on the wall chimed.

Everyone jumped, then exhaled in nervous giggles. Kira remembered their sleepovers when they weren’t teenagers yet, staying up late, telling ghost stories, scaring each other and eventually falling asleep in a big pile on the couch. It seemed so long ago, suddenly they were in their twenties, reuniting for one final graduation party before _being an adult_ took over their lives.

_Why can’t we stay like this,_ Kira thought despite her own job prospects waiting for her. Why did they have to let their own growth hold them back. Scott kept pulling at her, kissing her, and Kira felt like a smothered flower, petals fluttering to the ground to be crushed.

Lydia shook herself, clearing her throat now that the clock had finished announcing it was midnight.

“Is anyone with us tonight?”

No one had a chance to look around. The planchette veered to the right, stopping on YES.

Stiles laughed, his cheeks pink.

“All right guys, easy, I don’t want to fuck up my shoulder over a Ouiji board.”

As usual the _it wasn’t me_ came from everyone, prompting laughter as they gently brought the planchette back to the center. Lydia straightened her back with a prim smile.

“Very good. Would you like to talk to us?”

The planchette rocketed even faster to YES, Kira’s chest pressing against the glass table in order to keep her fingers on it. Less laughter came this time, and Isaac had his notebook, pen in hand. Without warning, the planchette dragged them across the board, Isaac writing quickly to capture the right letters.

KIRAISAFOX

Kira rolled her eyes, forcing a smile in Scott’s direction.

“Thank you.”

“W-Wasn’t me,” Scott offered, but then quickly continued. “I mean, you are. A fox.”

Stiles laughed and Kira shook her head, helping her friends move the planchette back to the center.

“Well, thank you, spirit. That’s very nice.”

She had barely finished _nice_ before the planchette seemed to vibrate, stinging her fingers and it was on the move again, fast and long, her arms aching and Isaac’s breathing getting louder as he wrote it all down.

MARRYMEKIRA

Awful heat crawled up Kira’s neck, her throat tight. She jerked her head to the side, hating the feeling of _trappedtrappedtrapped_ that was threatening to crawl out of her mouth. Stiles’s choked off “Ugh, Scott, maybe don’t do this at a Ouija game,” framed Scott’s frantic, “Kira’s that wasn’t me.”

No one laughed. Kira wanted nothing more than to retreat, drive home _alone_ and break up with Scott via text, she didn’t _care_ if it was immature—

The planchette sped right.

NO. It jerked to the side only to return. NO.

Kira’s breath was fogging up with everyone else’s as it raced across the letters.

NOTHIM

MEMARRYME

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, her neck and ears hot.

“This isn’t _funny_ anymore, guys—”

The lights shut off with a loud _THUD._ Someone screamed, shrill and high, and Kira was being knocked back and forth in the mad scramble to _fucking go, go, GO._ The basement door slammed open and heavy footfalls booked it up to the kitchen. Kira shoved her free hand on her knee… but she couldn’t move. She twisted around and a fierce wind blew out Allison’s eucalyptus candles, all except for the one closest to Kira’s right hand, the one that remained on the planchette.

All she heard was her frantic breathing, the dark quickly muffling all the noise from upstairs. She pulled at her arm but her hand _wouldn’t move._

Somewhere upstairs, someone shouted her name and Kira tried again to just _get up_ and _move,_ when two large hands closed over hers.

She sucked in air like she’d been held underwater. The hands just… reached out from the dark, entering the light of the candle and covered her fingers. Pale skin stood out against a dark suit with tarnished silver cufflinks. The smell of wet earth filled her nose as fingers folded her fingers around the planchette before lifting her hand.

A man leaned into the candlelight. He had wild black hair, bright green eyes, and harsh lines in his face. He smiled like they had an inside joke together.

“Hello.” He grinned, letting it grow slowly across his face. He kissed the back of her hand. His lips were _ice cold._ “So, you like to play with the dead? Lucky for you, I like playing with the living.”

_Don’t faint,_ Kira’s free hand gripped the glass table, her knuckles white as she tried her best not to hyperventilate.

“I’m sorry.” She shuddered when he turned her hand over so he could press his lips against her wrist. “I didn’t mean to,” her breath caught when he pulled, gently, so he could kiss a few inches further down her arm, “make you angry. I’m sorry.”

He pressed his teeth against her skin before he brought her hands to his cheek. His stubble stung her fingers.

“Do I look angry, sweetheart?”

“N-no.” The answer fell out of Kira’s lips easily, even as she kept breathing, kept waiting for his face to twist into anger. He was calm, annoyingly so, smiling and pulling until she had to put her knee up on the glass table. “You don’t.”

Despite the dark and the stubble tickling the skin on the inside of her arm, Kira could hear her friends scrambling at the door. The man had squeezed her arm, and she heard _“It’s locked— how the fuck is it locked,”_ from Lydia. Then a much louder bang came, the kind of bang that splintered wood.

He drew back because he couldn’t keep moving forward _and_ keep their hands clasped together. He still kissed back up her arm as he retreated.

Upstairs her friends kept slamming against the door, like a heartbeat. Two sets of shoulders rattling the hinges, followed by Stiles swinging his bat. The spirit nuzzled the back of her hand, still smiling, still calm.

“What do you want?”

“I told you,” he replied around a laugh. “I want you to marry me.”

_I thought that was a shitty proposal by my soon-to-be-ex, and then I thought it was a joke,_ Kira managed to keep inside.

“I have a boyfriend.”

The spirit’s eyes crinkled at the sides as he laughed.

“The boring goody-two-shoes you’ve been waiting to break up with?” That inside joke smile returned. Kira was dizzy with desperate self-assurance that it wouldn’t hurt her, combatted with the very sane screaming of _ghosts are suddenly very real, why the fuck wouldn’t it hurt you, don’t you watch movies?_ “Sure, baby.”

He kept _looking_ at her like there was something she was hiding, like there was something _worth_ looking at. She squirmed, tugging at her hand again, her fingers flexing. He adjusted his grip, his thumb pressing the planchette to her palm and encouraging her fingers to fan out. She trembled when his lips touched the tip of her thumb.

“Please let me go.”

“Why? We just met.” He kissed her index finger, then middle. “I want to get to know you.”

“Because you’re scaring me.”

Kira squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks hot. Her shoulders jumped in time with the banging against the door. _Hurry,_ she thought, as she felt the spirit get closer, she felt his other hand run down her shoulder to her free hand. Every splintering crackle of the door was another step closer. If her friends were with her, she could do anything.

“You won’t have to be scared of anything anymore, darlin.’” He leaned into a hokey Southern accent, the kind that only existed in old movies. She opened her eyes when his thumb dragged across her cheek. “There you are. How are you feeling?”

The planchette thrummed against her palm.

“I’m feeling better because my friends will be here soon.” Kira sucked in an uneven breath. “And when they do, I’ll be safe.”

There was no doubt in her mind, she just had to make it until they got there, until their hands were on her, and she’d finally be free. The spirit watched her face carefully, his grip on her loosening.

“I’ll let you go, if you promise to call me again.” Footsteps thundered down the steps, and flashlights burned her back and made the spirit’s pupils shrink into small dots. “You’re confident in your friends. That’s a good thing.” His smile vanished, evening out an intense stare that froze the air in Kira’s lungs. “I’m confident in my ability to fuck with the living, exponentially harder than they could _ever_ hope to fuck with me.”

“Okay,” Kira nodded because she heard the deliberate words that left the spirit’s mouth, not a threat, but a fact. “I will. I promise.” Cold air washed over her face, and he pulled her to her feet, up and up, until the tips of her sneakers barely touched the glass table. “I need your name.” Kira’s fingers dug into his suit jacket. “How am I going to call you if I don’t know your name?”

_How are we going to read everything ever written on Earth about you if I don’t know your name,_ Kira didn’t say. His smile returned.

“Remember,” he pulled her even closer, a thousand hummingbirds were trapped in her chest, “you promised.”

Her friends ran to her, screaming, making a bunch of noise like they were trying to scare off a bear instead of a ghost. He spoke his name against her lips just as seven pairs of hands _finally_ reached her.

::::

Stiles showed up to her house a week later with a duffle bag, three jars of kosher salt, and… all their friends except Scott behind him. When Kira hesitated, her throat too tight for words, Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Like fuck we’re letting you do this alone. Scott would be here too but,” Stiles glanced away, “you know.”

“Yeah.” Kira managed as she held the door open for Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. “I know.”

It would be awkward considering she broke up with Scott nine minutes after the Ouijia board incident. Her mother and father were out, they had the house to themselves for three hours. _Please, don’t let it take three hours,_ Kira pleaded with whatever omnipotent force was listening. Lydia had the board, Isaac brought tasers, Erica brought bungee cords, Boyd had sage, and Allison had a gun.

“Semi-automatic. It shoots rubber bullets,” Allison showed Kira the cartridge. “Dad got a contract for the police. This is about riot control, it hurts and it will bring you to the ground, but it won’t break the skin.”

All their preparations laid out on Kira’s parents beige shag carpet. Watching Allison take the rifle into her hands made Kira’s body tense while her mind relaxed.

They’d done their research, and what _little_ they could find… wasn’t helpful.

_Finstock._

It was a strange name, one that wasn’t easy to search for, and the few bits of information they could suss out was benign. Folktales.

A legend that a man was hung repeatedly during the witch trials and he kept cracking jokes, kicking whoever got too close to him in the face until they finally set him on fire. A rumor that police officers would hear cackling in the dark, leading them away from suspects. Nothing solid except that the stories spanned centuries. As Stiles said, _“no mentions of him wanting to play Gomez to an unsuspecting Morticia.”_

Erica and Boyd cleared the coffee table while Allison and Isaac moved the chairs off the carpet. Stiles and Kira rolled the carpet up, revealing the hardwood underneath. Stiles opened the first jar of salt and paused, doing quick math before starting the circle.

Lydia held bunches of dried sage and a box of matches.

“Half of this stuff is about belief. We believe in ghosts,” _because we saw one kiss you,_ Lydia didn’t say, “so we need to believe in the rest of it.”

Kira nodded. Before Lydia could strike a match, there was a knock at the door. Stiles’s hand jerked and some salt went flying off its course as Kira hopped on the tips of her toes, her body numb because if it was her parents she couldn’t _begin_ to explain—

Scott McCall stood on her doorstep, heavy backpack in hand with red-rimmed eyes. Kira stepped to the side as he pushed into the house. She locked the door, numb and unbalanced.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

His shoulders were tense as he unzipped his bag and pulled out water guns.

“Look, I’m still hurt,” his voice cracked and everyone suddenly were very interested in the various tasks they had to complete rather than look at either of them, “but I’m not gonna leave you alone with this.” He passed out the neon water guns. “I stopped by the church and filled these with holy water, I saw it on Youtube— is that a _gun?”_

Stiles finished up the large circle of salt while Allison rolled her eyes with a, _“it’s loaded with rubber bullets, it’s best to be prepared.”_ Scott immediately shot back with, _“that’s a fucking gun what the fuck,”_ and Stiles, quick to back his best friend up, smirked, _“I wasn’t going to say anything Allison, but… it’s a lot.”_

Lydia burned sage and made a knighting motion with the bundle, the smoke tickling Kira’s nose.

“Are you _sure_ about this?” Lydia kept her voice low, gently pushing some hair behind Kira’s ear. “You don’t have to. Stiles and I can hit the books again, we can… figure something else out.”

Kira had waited eight days, and each day more things started going wrong as they researched. The neighbor’s new car caught on fire, then Lydia’s computer died. The library’s power went out and the two backup generators failed.

The final straw was when, at the diner with all eight of them pouring over photocopied pages. Down the street a car backfired, and before they’d finished nervously laughing, the light above them flickered, the cash register opened without warning and hit the hostess in the stomach, she shrieked, accidentally pushing the waiter who tumbled over and spilled hot coffee on everyone, yet it somehow managed to avoid Kira.

When she looked down, the words _You promised, sweetheart_ had been written on the back of her placemat.

She couldn’t delay it anymore after that.

“I’m sure.”

She sat in the center of the circle, her friends also inside at the border. Scott had a water gun across his lap, and Kira sat cross-legged in the center, the board between her and Scott. Kira offered him a thin smile.

_If we’re all together, we’ll be okay._ Kira took a deep breath and put her hands on the planchette. _As long as my friends are with me, then nothing bad can happen._

Deep down, she knew that it was all bullshit. Real life didn’t care about affection and friendship. Bad things happened, and fate didn’t care who suffered. Kira was potentially risking all their lives, when she should have taken responsibility, going alone into the undead unknown. Instead, they were there, breathing in synch with each other as lingering burned sage floated around them.

“Finstock,” Kira spoke with confidence she didn’t have, “are you there?”

She heard the creak of everyone’s hands tightening in each other’s.

Twinkling sunlight warmed Kira’s shoulders. Birds chirped outside. A gentle breeze rustled lazy wind chimes. They all collectively let out their breath.

“Maybe it only works at night,” Kira offered.

Stiles snorted, his smile tight.

“Yeah, everyone knows scary stuff only happens at night—”

The Ouijia board cracked in half and Kira had to quickly move back as flames quickly reduced it to ash.

::::

There were worse things to be than _dead._

Not _a lot_ of things, mind you, but Finstock was pretty happy without a heartbeat. There was _so much more_ you could do when dead. With the right books and enough determination, it was enough to do almost _anything._ And if he had a permanent tie to the living plane… he got all twisty just thinking about it, the taste of fresh air, all the food he could ever hope to eat, to stain the world with his laughter. For the longest time he thought any living anchor would do.

Then he saw her, and he knew no other living being would be acceptable.

He heard his name, _finally,_ and reached through the planes, throwing elbows to get through the ether until he could weave his cold fingers through Kira’s hair.

“You don’t need that Hasbro trademarked trash anymore,” it had only been a week but it felt like a decade, mounting frustration making him impatient, yearning to feel her warm hands in his. “You’ve got my name, baby, that’s all you need.”

Her hair was like satin over his dead fingers. He chased the warmth that bloomed in her cheeks with his thumb. Her brown eyes swept over his face, darting from his eyes, his hand, his lips, and back to his eyes. A strangled sound came from the floor.

Kira was not alone, Finstock quickly realized. Her friends sat in a circle on the floor, clasping hands so tightly that their knuckles bled white. He was surprised to see the boyfriend. Judging by his puffy eyes, he was an ex-boyfriend. _No hard feelings,_ Finstock mouthed with a wink as he turned back to Kira.

“I thought it was just going to be me and you.”

Alone, with all the time in the world to get closer. Not in the middle of a prayer circle. Kira tilted her chin up even though he could feel her pulse pounding against his fingers.

“You never specified.”

“Mmm,” Finstock waggled his eyebrows, “I love a woman who digs into the fine print.” One of her friends made a strangled sound, like they were trying to swallow a laugh. "I gotta admit, while I don't mind company, this does seem a little weird."

"You're a ghost." Kira grabbed both of his hands, and it made him swoon even though he knew it was a method to keep him still, to control where he looked. "I think that's pretty fucking weird." Someone sucked in air like they were punched. Finstock began to turn to see who, but Kira squeezed his fingers. “Thanks for waiting. I wanted to be prepared.”

She held his gaze, breathing with her heartbeat thudding like war drums. Then, she broke eye contact, her shoulders tensing even as her hands remained steady in his.

Finstock never really _looked_ at the living for longer than a few seconds. He’d been around long enough to know what he could get them to do, to know how to unnerve them, make them scream. If there was one thing Finstock knew how to do, it was make himself laugh. He didn’t laugh as he leaned in, just a half-step closer to her, running his thumb over the lines between her brows.

“What’s got you twisted up?”

Brave brown eyes lifted back to his unblinking stare.

“What’s so special about me?” Her cheeks were hot, her breath shallow. _God_ she was brave, Finstock realized with stunning clarity. “Compared to the rest of the population, I’m not… I’m not special. Even within my friend group, there are smarter and stronger options.”

“Sweetheart,” he fumbled for her hands, pressing his lips on the inside of her wrist, “no. That’s not,” he shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

She blushed more than she did the first time they met. She watched him with a calm demeanor, still nervous, but not terrified. He kissed her again, where the skin between her thumb and index finger met, and she shuddered and stepped _closer._

“Explain it to me. Please.”

It was a simple request, with a very _not_ simple answer.

For as long as Finstock could remember, he had been too _something_ for his own good. At first, too vengeful, too angry, too vindictive towards those who _wasted_ something so precious as _life_ by hurting others. He’d spent centuries reveling in seeking those kind of souls out, digging in _deep_ to what scared them and never letting go until their hair turned white.

Then he simply… stopped being angry.

Maybe he _redefined_ anger so many different times with different words it lost the original meaning.

From then on, he was simply too loud. Too annoying.

If people who did have life wasted it, why couldn’t he go back up and party the way he _deserved?_

“Uh,” Finstock felt like spider skittered over his skin, sparks fizzing and popping down his neck and chest. He realized this is what it meant to be _bashful._ He shook out his shoulders and pointedly did _not_ look at the circle of people hand-in-hand on the floor. “I mean, it’s kind of personal. I would have preferred to be somewhere private.”

He shrugged, hating and _loving_ how his suddenly careful speech had her leaning into his space, _looking_ closer. She needed _something,_ and no one liked asking for anything twice.

“It’s like… if my existence were a song, it’s complete when it’s just me. A song can exist with just a solo performer, and for as long as I can remember, it’s been fine with just me. My song has _always_ been fun, exactly representative of me. When I saw you,” he couldn’t tell if his hand went to her cheek first, or if he was prompted by her fingers spreading to grip his waist. “It became a harmony.”

The change had bowled him over, and within seconds he knew he’d never be the same.

“You’re right.” Kira bit her lip, “we should be somewhere private.”

She twisted around, her hands still on him, but her brow furrowed, like she was thinking of places to move to, how to convince her friends to dislodge their hands.

“Oh, just let me put the kids to bed,” Finstock waved his hand carelessly, “and you can give me the tour,” he stepped over one kid’s head, their eyes already drooping as they slumped onto the floor. He held out his arm. “Isn’t that what people do? Give tours of the house?”

Kira’s throat clicked, her eyes flitting to the circle of salt, her friends slumped on the floor, and then Bobby’s extended hand.

“They’re going to wake up again, right?”

“Of course.” He slid his arm around her waist once she got close, pressing his grin against her temple. “Next time I’ll bring pajamas and a charcuterie.”

When she looked up at him, her smile no longer restrained, their song rose to a dizzying ringing, thudding against his ribs and warming his veins for the first time in centuries.

::::

“I just don’t get it.”

“Sometimes it’s okay to _not_ get something, you know?” Stiles stretched his legs out on the cracked fake leather at the diner. “No one is getting hurt.” Scott sent Stiles a wounded look. “Okay, yeah but _really_ hurt.”

When they were little the diner was a sanctuary. It was a place to go for celebration and for devastation, a comfortable retreat from the rest of the world. Stiles and Scott always sat in the booth all the way at the end by the window, sat with their shoulders pushed against the glass as they picked at fries and coffee.

Scott huffed and Stiles rolled his shoulders even though he wasn’t achey or uncomfortable, which was surprising since he apparently slept for hours on the Yukimura’s hardwood floor.

None of them had a single ache or pain. Lydia had sat up with a dazed look on her face. _I think that’s the best sleep I’ve ever gotten._ Stiles had agreed, but didn’t say anything. He was too busy studying the easy-going smile on Kira’s face, how the shadows in her house seemed to dance across her skin, and the strange feeling of being watched with an amused eye.

When he hugged her goodbye, he made sure to hold her tight and whisper, _“are you sure you’re okay alone?”_ He felt Kira’s cheek move against his, a smile. _“Yeah, I’m sure.”_

“It’s weird,” Scott lamented.

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged. “But it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve seen. Remember Robbie from Math class?” Scott finally cracked a smile and Stiles knocked their sneakers together. “He spent the whole year pretending he was a bee?”

Scott reached over to knock his fingers against Stiles’s hand.

By the time they left they could still taste whipped cream and strawberry milkshakes. Scott leaned against the back of the Jeep, his hands jammed in his jacket pockets.

“She looked happy,” Scott took a deep, steadying breath, “right?”

When two friends broke up, it was never easy, especially if the group could see it coming. Kira had been smiling less, had been distancing herself from Scott in subtle ways he never noticed, but the rest of them did. Stiles could tell that Scott had been forced to be reflective, to look back and reevaluate all the things he refused to see.

Right before he’d pulled out of Kira’s driveway, Stiles had taken a look back. The lights were on, golden hues illuminating the bits of grass and gravel in the yard. She was sitting at the kitchen counter, one foot propped up on the seat so she could hug her knee.

She wasn’t alone. On the other side of the counter, with a dish towel over one arm and a bottle of wine in the other, was the strange specter with a luminous grin. Even through the distortion in the glass, Stiles could see her smile.

“Yeah.” Stiles climbed into his Jeep, “she did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another Bobby is basically Beetlejuice story. I have… neglected my other story and for that, I’m sorry. I think I just got intimidated by how much I bit off, and I like the idea of these two odd balls getting to know each other, figuring each other out. And uhhhhh making the relationship less dubious hahaha. This is for the B-Side of Saturday, Finstock’s Fucked up Weekend, the theme Creature Feature! Also, in case it wasn’t obvious, I was HELLA inspired by that one IT Ch. 2 trailer where Pennywise’s hands just come into that lit spot. 
> 
> I hope y’all had fun, I had a blast writing this little piece and I hope to expand on the universe!
> 
> I’ll still be active on tumblr for the time being, but there are other ways to find me. [**Here**](http://mia6363.tumblr.com/about) you can see a little breakdown of other places to find me and the other things I do in relation to these fics (journals/behind the scenes, playlists, head canons). [**So click on over** ](http://mia6363.tumblr.com/about)to get the full rundown!


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